


You’re Giving Up Before You Start

by SammyIndigo



Series: Call Me Mother [1]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: AU, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 10:42:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17364506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SammyIndigo/pseuds/SammyIndigo
Summary: Being a single mother is difficult, but Sharon's doing an okay job, and if she accidentally kills a cactus or casually falls in love with her best friend, well, these things just happen.





	You’re Giving Up Before You Start

**Author's Note:**

> For your consideration:

“It’ll be a huge order.” Trixie said, pacing in Sharon’s office. “Massive. There’s at _least_ sixty tables, Katya says, and each table needs two centre pieces.”

“Why would a table need _two_ centre pieces?” Sharon asked, looking back at the projections spread sheet she was working on. “Seems a bit frivolous, especially for a charity event.” Sharon blew sweaty bangs out of her eyes.

“Why are you being such a bitch today?” Trixie asked. “You’re gonna have to apologise to Farrah, you know? She’s just a kid.”

“An annoying kid.” Sharon muttered at her laptop.

“Still. A _kid_.” Trixie wandered over to the filing cabinet in the corner. “Think about if that was your Aquaria and someone spoke to her like that.”

“They’d be dead.” Sharon said without hesitation, and then stared up at Trixie in unveiled realisation. “ _Oh_.” She drew out the syllable. “She’s just a _kid. Someone’s_ kid.”

“Yeah.” Trixie said. “You’ll say sorry to her.”

It was hot day for October, and despite the open windows in her office, Sharon was still struggling with her heat-induced irritability. The air outside was unmoving, there was no breeze to even rustle the blinds, and she had only been provided with one shitty USB-powered fan to keep her from melting. Most of the staff at the florist understood it was safer to just avoid Sharon on days like this, but not all of Trixie’s staff were seasoned pros in dealing with Sharon’s moodiness. The poor high school kid, Farrah, who Trixie had recently hired to help hold down the fort on Saturdays, had come in earlier in the day to collect her pay cheque and Sharon had made her _cry_. Not that it was necessarily _Sharon’s_ fault, the kid was a bit of a cry-baby bitch on the best of days, but perhaps she could have chosen _not_ to throw Farrah’s cheque directly into her face and tell her she should _“use the money to buy a better personality”_ when the kid had commented on Sharon’s sweaty sheen _._ Not Sharon’s finest moment, she was big enough to admit. And maybe, she did feel a tiny bit guilty. Only a tiny bit, though.

“So tell me, again,” Sharon said, puling half of her hair back into a ratty ponytail, if only to relieve her from the stagnant heat for a moment, “why does a charity require this ridiculous amount of floral arrangements?”

Trixie briefly stopped her pacing to glare at Sharon. Sharon glared back. The florist’s shop floor was kept at a constant comfortable seventy degrees for the benefit of the customers, and the floral cool room at a frigid thirty-eight for the benefit of the flowers, but it was ninety-four degrees in the back of the goddamn building where the AC did not stretch, _and_ Trixie had been in the offices just as much as Sharon, _and_ her make-up hadn’t moved all damn day. Sharon made a mental note to ask her which setting spray she was using these days, when she wasn’t feeling so petulant.

“This is good for us.” Trixie said. “Don’t ruin it.”

“Having _two_ centrepieces per table? How big are the fucking tables at this thing?”

“It’s a massive event, Katya says.” Trixie walked over to the cactus on Sharon’s bookshelf and wrinkled her nose at the browning edges. “How the fuck do you work for a florist and kill a cactus?” She muttered, shaking her head.

Sharon watched her as she inspected the plant, muttering something about Sharon’s incompetence. Trixie swore quietly when the cactus pricked her finger.

“Good job, Klaus.” Sharon said.

“You named your dead cactus, Klaus?” Trixie asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Actually, my daughter named it…when it was alive.”

Trixie shook her head with a small smile, coming to stand in front of Sharon’s desk. “How in the fuck do you keep that poor child alive when you’ve somehow managed to kill a _cactus_?”

“I-,”

“Kill a _cactus,_ ” Trixie interrupted, “in a florist, filled with people who are _plant experts_?” Trixie shrugged. “It’s truly baffling, Shaz.”

“Don’t call me that.” Sharon said dangerously, and Trixie stuck her tongue out at her.

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She looked over at the browning corpse of Klaus. “I still think whatever charity Katya’s planning this shit for, have a fucking nerve spending this much on fucking _flowers_.”

Trixie huffed. “You’re so negative.” She said. “Why do you have to be like this all the time? It wears me down!”

“I’m not _negative_. I’m _realistic._ ” She argued, looking over the top of her laptop screen. “Sure it’s great for us that they want to spend an extortionate amount of money on flowers that will inevitably end up in the trash at the end of the night, but what about the money they're spending on them? Couldn’t they give _that_ to charity?”

Sharon watched Trixie cross to the window in the office, glance out into the empty alley for a fleeting moment, and then turn to walk back over to the door. “That’s not the point.”

“I feel like it _is_ the point.”

“Listen,” Trixie said, moving to stand directly in front of Sharon’s desk, placing both her hands on the top, “I didn’t come in here to ask you for your opinion on this opportunity. I came in here to tell you about it because I was excited.” One of the feathers Trixie was wearing in her DIY _Pinterest_ -style headband fell into her face and she swiped it away angrily. “I own this place.” She said, hands on her hips. “I worked fucking hard to get here, and _you_ work for _me._ ”

Sharon made a show of leaning back in her chair, taking a deep breath, and letting it out through her nose. She had worked for Trixie for just over three years, had started back when her business had been fairly new and struggling, and Sharon knew _exactly_ the way to get under Trixie’s skin and push every button she had. Trixie was dying to butt in, to say something else, but she was holding her tongue, waiting for Sharon to respond just so she could argue with her again.

Shangela always said they were sisters separated at birth, not because of any physical similarities, but because of their love-hate, partnership-rivalry they had developed from day one of meeting each other. Sharon loved Trixie to death, but _God_ , it was fucking fun to fight with her.

It was their permanent dynamic at this point.

The arguments usually developed as follows; Trixie had an idea. Trixie told Sharon. Sharon told her it was stupid. Trixie went through with said idea, anyway. And sometimes, it paid off and Sharon was wrong and left to endure days of _‘I told you so’_ s from Trixie. And sometimes, it didn’t pay off, and as the financial officer Sharon was left to pick up the pieces and make sure the business remained afloat. And as a friend, Sharon was left to pick up Trixie and assure her she wasn’t a failure, and that sometimes, shit just wasn’t meant to be.

“You know I’m not going to stop you.” Sharon said eventually, dismissing Trixie with a wave of her hand. Trixie opened her mouth to respond, but Sharon cut her off. “ _But_ I want to stand firm in the opinion that it is inherently immoral that a charity _spend_ thousands of dollars on pointless decorations for an event in order to _raise money_ for _charity_. It makes no sense.”

Trixie nodded. “I respect your opinion.” She said.

“But...?”

“ _But_ , I’m selling the damn charity one hundred and twenty centrepieces, anyway, _bitch_.”

There was no point arguing anymore. Sharon shrugged and Trixie did a stupid little victory dance that got ever so slightly more elaborate each time she did it. Thus far, the dance was well over thirty seconds and had more than one twirl. Sharon watched it all from behind her desk with a scowl.

“I can’t believe that Katya got you this order.” Sharon said as Trixie ended her dance. “Of all people, I thought _she_ would be principled enough to see the ethical quandary of this.”

“Actually, I think it’s mostly down to the new woman she’s been working with. Katya says she’s a hard-ass for business. Knows what the fuck she’s doing.”

“She sounds terrible.”

Trixie smirked. “She sounds like _you_.”

Sharon blinked. “I’m not like that.” She said. “I’m _nice_.”

“You’re literally awful, and my high school weekend staff are all scared of you.”

“They shouldn’t all be so fucking dense, then.” Sharon said. “I mean how difficult is it for them to cash up a register correctly?” She sighed. “Morons.”

Trixie stared at her for a second. “Yeah, you’re right.” She said without feeling. “You’re a goddamn delight.”

“I hate you. I don’t know how Katya has put up with you for this long.”

“What can I say?” Trixie flipped blonde hair over her shoulder. “She loves her wifey.”

“Ew, gross, don’t say that.” Sharon threw a balled up post-it at Trixie who caught it and flicked it back. “You’re not married.” Sharon looked back at her computer. “You’re not even married to her. And the word ‘wifey’ is just disgusting, anyway.”

“Oh, shut up, you jaded lesbian.” Trixie grinned. She perched on the edge of the desk, displacing some of Sharon’s papers with her ass. “You’re just bitter because you haven’t known the love of a women for over two years.”

Sharon scoffed. “I had sex four days ago.”

“I didn’t say you were celibate.” Trixie ran her fingers over one of the feathers hanging from her headband. “I _said_ you hadn’t known _love_. Getting laid by a stranger on the nights your kid is at sleepovers doesn’t count as _love._ I feel sorry for you.”

Sharon pulled some papers from underneath Trixie, purposely poking her hip with her spikey ring in the process. “Leave me alone with my spreadsheets and go play with your peonies.”

“Wrong season for peonies, Shaz.” Trixie shrugged.

“Don’t call me that.”

Trixie showed no indication she had even heard her. “I mean, Christ, you’ve worked here for years. You’d think you would have at least learned _something_ about flowers. Even your kid knows more than you.”

“Don’t bring my child into this.” Sharon said. She made a show of clicking her mouse and marking some numbers on the papers rescued from below Trixie’s ass. “Now can you please go back to fucking around with plants, and leave me in peace?”

Trixie sighed heavily, and stood up from the desk. “Fine. But you’re going to see I’m right about this charity thing. I’m winning this argument.”

“What’s the argument?” Sharon muttered eyes on the laptop. “Morality versus money?” She looked up, smirking at Trixie’s irked expression.

Trixie flipped her off, walking to the office door. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too.” Sharon called after her.

“Well fuck you, more.” Trixie argued back from the hallway.

“How about fuck you, _most_?” Sharon shouted, grinning.

Shangela’s voice came from the front of the store, loud and angry. “ _Y’all wanna shut up fighting like two thirteen year old girls?”_

“ _She started it!_ ” Trixie and Sharon yelled at the same moment.

Trixie’s face appeared back in the doorway, grinning like an idiot. “Jinx!” She scream-laughed. “Now you can’t talk!”

“ _Oh my Lord,”_ Shangela called, “ _give me the strength to continue working with these two children for another day. Halleloo.”_

………………………………

“Farrah, my door has a window.” Sharon said, pulling it open and looking down at the kid. “I can see you standing there. You’ve been here for like five minutes now.”

“Sorry, Sharon.” Farrah squeaked.

Sharon blew some air out of her nose. “What do you want, kid?”

“Um, I just, I came by because, well, my cheque is, um, well, wrong, I think.” She stuttered.

“It’s not wrong.”

“Oh.” She looked down at the envelope in her hands. “I’m sure it’s too much. I didn’t work this many hours.”

“It’s not wrong.”

“Are you _sure?”_

“Go home, Farrah.” Sharon said, shutting the door. “Go on. Leave me alone, kid.”

…………………………....

On one occasion, in the early days of Sharon’s employment to Trixie Mattel, the latter had taken an order for some wedding arrangements from the mother of a bride, who was set to get married in a large church, with eight bridesmaids, eight groomsmen, and two flower girls. It was a ridiculous wedding, from what Sharon could remember, with a bride who had demanded yellow flowers and a mother who wanted purple, and they had felt the need to fight out their difference in opinion inside of Trixie’s shop on more than one occasion. Back then, Trixie had been a lot more timid and had done everything to make the women happy. It had been difficult for Sharon to witness, but she had felt as though it was not her place to step in when her boss was being walked all over by two snotty bitches in yoga leggings and _Ugg_ s. She was the money woman, and as long as the books were in the black, Sharon was doing her job.

The mother of the bride had ordered a lot of flowers, though, in the end. Purple. Trixie and Shangela had slaved for days over the fresh floral arrangements for the church pews. It had been before Trixie had hired Violet and Pearl as arrangers, and so only she and Shangela had spent hours of overtime creating the little basket bound bunches for the flower girls to hold, and the matching larger bouquets for the bridesmaids and bride. Shangela alone had created the buttonhole lilacs for all the groomsman. All of the hard work, the time, the undying _effort_ from Trixie had been witnessed by Sharon for the first time since she had been hired. It was inspirational, and all of a sudden Sharon had realised just how a person as young as Trixie had managed to develop her own business; it was the passion. Sharon had felt a swell of pride for the woman. She had really begun to admire Trixie Mattel as a business owner.

And then she had been given the books, and Sharon had almost had an aneurysm.

Trixie had made a profit from the job that wasn’t even worth mentioning. All the hours, all the effort, and she had literally nothing to show for it. Not even enough to pay Shangela for her overtime. Sharon had been horrified. It had been the first time ever that Sharon had truly confronted Trixie about her business, and Trixie had broken down in front of her.

_“I just wanted them to be happy._ ” She had said. _“I kept saying I’d give them things cheaper because they were telling me about her grandfather dying, and about how times were hard, and how she had dreamed about this wedding since she was a kid and-,”_

_“Who the fuck cares, Trixie?”_ Sharon had interjected. _“You need to be charging your customers for your skills, for your time, not based on how many dead relatives they have!”_

From that day forward, Trixie had, at Sharon’s request, offloaded the responsibility of charges and payment for larger custom orders, over to Sharon. It was something that worked for both of them nicely. Trixie got to consult with the client about the pretty flowers and sparkly place settings, and Sharon got to be the hard-ass who dropped the bomb of the final bill. Violet called it their ‘good cop, bad cop’ act. They both loved their roles, and Sharon had no qualms in admitting that she was fucking _good_ at her job.

This therefore meant, that Sharon had been assigned the responsibility of heading over to Katya’s offices, to discuss the final pricing for the metric fuck-tonne of centrepieces that Trixie had agreed to create. Which was fine, because a week later it was _still_ like working in the devil’s ass crack back at Trixie’s place, and she was certain Katya’s place of employment had air conditioning throughout.

Katya worked for an event-planning company that housed the top two floors of an office building in the centre of the city. The traffic could be a bitch, but Sharon was willing to overlook the extra twenty minutes in the car for the amazing view of the river from the office windows.

“Got any positions opening here?” Sharon asked Katya, leaning against her office window and angling her body just enough so the AC was blowing down her neck deliciously. She sipped at the coffee Katya had given her. “I could get used to this.”

Katya cackled. “And who would keep my lovely Trixie in check at her place of employment? Hmm?”

Sharon nodded, turning to face Katya sitting across the room. “You’re right. Without me, that place would dissolve into chaos.”

“And everyone would be much happier.”

“I told you, I _apologised_ to Farrah and we’re good now.”

“She avoids you at all costs, you mean?”

“Same thing.”

Katya grinned. “How many kids have you made cry today?”

“Only one.” Sharon said with a smirk over her cup. “But it was my own kid, and it was because I told her she couldn’t wear fake lashes to school and she threw a fit.”

“Lashes?” Katya whistled and kicked herself over to Sharon in her wheeled desk chair. “How old is Aquaria, again?”

Sharon sighed. “Ten.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” She sipped more of her coffee and wrapped an arm around her stomach. “Although if you ask her, she _will_ inform you that she will be eleven in less than four months.”

“Wow.” Katya spun in her chair. “Kids are growing up so fast these days. When I was ten, I hadn’t even discovered my vagina.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, I’ve got ten year old who seems to be going on twenty four, so I’m excited to see how that progresses throughout her teenage years.”

“I sense sarcasm, Sharon.”

“Good.” Sharon said. “You were meant to.” She sat in the spare chair by Katya’s desk. “What time is this bitch meant to get here?”

“Alaska.” Katya said.

“Huh?”

“Her name is Alaska. And I told you, she’s just finishing up her meeting with Raven. She’ll be by soon.” She kicked Sharon in the shin. “Why are you so cranky?”

Sharon drank down the last of her coffee. “I haven’t eaten lunch, yet.”

“Hangry?”

“What?”

“Hangry.” Katya repeated. “It’s when you get angry because you’re hungry.”

Sharon blinked. “That is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever heard and whoever came up with it should throw themselves off the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“Sounds like,” Katya wheeled closer to Sharon and leaned towards her face, “something someone who was _hangry,_ would say.”

“I’m going to _actually_ kill you, Zamo.” Sharon said.

Katya laughed, flailing her limbs and kicking Sharon in the leg once more, in the process.

“I swear!” Sharon reached for Katya as the woman tried to wheel herself away. “I swear to God, Katya, one of the these days I’m actually going to choke you and watch the life leave your eyes!”

Katya left her chair and ran across the room as Sharon chased her. She pulled open the door, only to stop in her tracks at the sight of the person mid-knock on the other side. Sharon ran into the back of her and grunted.

“Um…” The woman slowly lowered her arm to her side. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes.” Katya said before Sharon could respond. “I was about to be brutally murdered.” She said it with a straight face and the women glanced behind her at Sharon, warily. Katya’s face lit up at her expression and she grinned manically. “This is my murderer, Sharon!”

“Oh.” The woman said. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Hi.” She dragged out the single syllable for far too long and Sharon tried her best to smile in a way that said ‘I’m happy to meet you’, rather than ‘I’m seconds away from punching someone and that someone might be you if I don’t eat a sandwich soon and you continue to speak in that irritating manner’.

“Hello.” Sharon said carefully, taking a step back from where she was still too close to Katya’s back and offering her hand. “I’m Sharon Needles.”

The woman glanced at Katya, and then back to Sharon’s hand, before taking it and giving her two firm shakes. “Alaska.” She said. “It’s a pleasure.” From the half bored, half faux-sweet tone of her voice, it seemed to Sharon that for Alaska, meeting Sharon was anything _but_ ‘a pleasure’.

“So,” Sharon said, taking back her hand, and sticking it in her jeans’ pocket just for something to do, “Alaska, are you ready to discuss the prices of plants?” It was quite possibly the worst opening line Sharon had ever uttered, and judging by the baffled expression on both Katya and Alaska’s faces, they sensed it, too.

“I am.” Alaska said. She smoothed a hand over the lapel of her blazer. It matched her pencil skirt impeccably.

Sharon smoothed a hand down her _Metallica_ tee-shirt. There was a bleach stain on the hem of it from when Aquaria had tried to help clean the kitchen countertops and simultaneously do laundry.

Alaska switched her briefcase to the other hand.

Sharon put Katya’s coffee cup on the desk and picked up her lever arch file.

Alaska dropped her gaze to Sharon’s holey converse.

“I have nice shoes.” Sharon said without any forethought, and then felt like jumping out of the window.

“I’m sorry?” Alaska asked, eyes meeting Sharon’s.

Sharon stared at her. “I was just saying,” She paused, looked over to Katya and her bemused expression, and then looked back to Alaska, “I don’t always look like this.” She said. “I didn’t dress up today. But I can.” Sharon opened her mouth and closed it again, before speaking once more. “I can look professional.”

“Congratulations.” Said Alaska.

Katya coughed through a laugh.

“Oh, so you’re a cunt?” Sharon gestured at Alaska.

Katya screamed.

Alaska narrowed her eyes. “Did you just call me a cunt?”

Sharon nodded. “I was just voicing my thoughts. Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” Katya said. “She’s very hangry.”

Alaska tightened her jaw and Sharon could see it in the line of her cheekbone.

Whether simply not noticing the tension in the room, or just choosing not to acknowledge it, both were just as likely, Katya clapped once and turned to Sharon and Alaska, both still glaring at one another. “Well, I’ll be going. Have a fun meeting, you two.”

“Wait.” Sharon grabbed Katya’s arm as she passed her. “I thought you were coming to this meeting, too? Isn’t this charity night your thing, also?”

Katya grabbed her bag and shook her head. “Nothing to do with me.” She said. “This is Alaska’s gig. I got a Halloween party to plan.”

“But Trixie said you got her the job?”

“I did.” Katya pushed past her to grab her phone.

Alaska held up a hand. “She gave me the florist recommendation.” She said.

“See.” Said Katya. “Now can you both kindly get the fuck out of my office? I have to go to _Party City_ while Phi Phi’s still on shift if I want to get a discount.”

Katya ushered them out of the office, locking the door behind them. “Hey, Alaska?” She said, walking backwards away from them down the hall. “If you want to have any kind of civilised conversation with Sharon you’re going to have to take her to _Coffee Bean_ or something because bitch needs a snack.”

The walk to the nearest coffee house was almost silent. It was a six minute walk, Sharon was counting, and Alaska said five words to her: “ _This place has good sandwiches_ ,” as they approached a storefront.

Sharon had replied. “ _Sounds good_.” And then they had ordered, sat down, received their food and drinks, and begun eating, all without saying much more to each other.

The sandwich was good. Sharon wanted to express this to Alaska and show her gratitude for suggesting the place, but felt there was something more pressing to address. She reluctantly put down the final third of sandwich she had yet to inhale on her plate, and took a drink of her soda to clear her mouth.

“I’m sorry I called you a cunt.” Sharon said.

Alaska looked up from her salad at her. “Thanks.”

“I don’t even know you.” She continued. “It was a mean thing to say, and I’m sorry, Alaska.”

“It’s okay.” For the first time since they had been introduced, Alaska smiled, straight teeth and showing gums. “I _am_ a cunt. So, you weren’t wrong.”

“I see.” Sharon felt herself grinning back. “That’s cool.”

“It is?” Alaska had a piece of rocket on her lip. Sharon didn’t tell her.

Sharon nodded. “Yeah.” She laughed, and quickly stopped, catching herself at the unexpected show. “I may have been informed on several occasions that I, too, am a cunt.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Straight up bitch.” Sharon said.

Alaska snickered.

“Despicable human being.” Sharon grinned.

Alaska clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the laughter.

“Not worthy of breathing the same air as the rest of common society.”

“That seems awfully harsh.” Alaska said from behind her hands. Her eyes glittered with mirth.

“Well,” Sharon shrugged, “that last one was from Katya.”

“Sounds like her.”

“Yeah.” Sharon smiled as she watched Alaska lower her hands. “She’s a wonderful friend.”

“I could tell you were close from the way you were threatening to kill her, earlier.”

“I’m actually closer with her girlfriend. You should see the way I speak to her.”

Alaska whistled. “If you’re this hostile with your friends, I’d hate to see what you’re like with your boyfriend.”

She was fishing. Sharon grinned. It was so obvious, and Alaska was smirking at her.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Sharon said. She took a mouthful of her soda.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. No guys have really peaked my interest, recently.”

Alaska ran a fingernail over the wood grain of the table. “I see.”

Sharon put down her glass. “Also, I’m a super gay.”

Alaska grinned. “Good.”

“Good?”

“Mm.” Alaska cocked an eyebrow at her. “Good.”

She was fucking _flirting_ with Sharon. The hard-ass cunt was coming onto her. Maybe.

“Cool.” Sharon said, and then cringed. She probably hadn’t used the word ‘ _cool’_ since she was twenty and it felt unnatural coming from her lips.

“Right.” Alaska cleared her throat, and looked down at her hands. “We should probably get to work. I need to be back in the office by three.”

“I could, um, walk you back to your office?”

Alaska blinked. “What?”

Sharon hadn’t flirted with anyone, or had anyone flirt with her, while she was sober, for _years_ as far as she could recall. Not since she had broken up with her ex, and even then, any _flirting_ between them had stopped months before they had actually called it quits.

A waitress collected their plates, and Sharon was feeling too introspective to even point out the fact that she wasn’t actually _done_ with her food. Alaska was watching her curiously, pulling out a file from her briefcase. She set it down on the table and flipped through the neatly typed pages before landing on what appeared to be a print-out of Trixie’s website.

The piece of rocket fell from her lips and disappeared somewhere in her lap.

“I’ve looked at what you’re offering in terms of pricing for custom orders.” Alaska said. “But your website doesn’t seem to have any definitive prices.” She wasn’t smiling, and the glint in her eyes had been replaced with the hardened determination Sharon had been anticipating from the businesswoman.

It was unsettling how quickly she had switched.

“Okay.” Sharon said, unhelpfully.

“I was wondering if we could discuss options.”

“Okay.”

Alaska frowned at her. “Do you want me to just start throwing numbers at you, or are you going to give me a figure to negotiate with?”

Something about the way in which Alaska tapped her fingers against the plastic wallet on the file, brought Sharon out of her stupor, and she quickly fumbled to grab the ring binder settled by her feet under the table. She dropped it on the table with a thud, and Alaska’s expression remained stony.

“For the arrangements you’ve requested with Trixie,” Sharon said, flicking through the file, “our standard price would be…” She trailed off as she slowed her page-turning, eventually finding the correct one. “Would be one hundred dollars, per arrangement.”

“That’s unreasonable.” Alaska said.

“I haven’t finished.” Sharon muttered. “Christ.”

Alaska nodded. “Continue.”

“I _shall_.” She sighed through her nose. “So, one hundred dollars per centre piece, _but_ we will offer a discount of five per cent on each arrangement, after the first twenty five.”

“That seems like an extremely small discount for such a hefty order.”

Sharon shrugged. “That’s our pricing. We’re fantastic at what we do.” She said proudly. “Our pricing reflects that.”

“I’m not paying eleven thousand, five hundred and twenty five dollars for one hundred and twenty centre pieces.” Alaska said.

“Oh, she can do math.” Sharon mocked.

Alaska leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “That’s robbery.”

“That’s business.” Sharon said. She leaned forward in her seat, excited to argue with the other woman. “I agree, it’s a fucking unreasonable amount for a goddamn charity to be spending on _decorations_ but hey, it’s your client. You tell them, that.”

Alaska looked seething. She was gripping the sleeves of her blazer where it covered her upper arms. “It’s a huge event. It has to look classy.”

“And what’s classier than a bunch of white guys in Armani suits pretending to care about whales and polar bears, while signing of cheques for eleven thousand dollars of donated money to pay for flowers, for tables at an event that probably wont even raise enough money to cover the entire party, anyway?”

Sharon punctuated her rant by picking up her glass and attempting to take a long victory sip. There was no soda left, so she settled with sucking one of the melting ice cubes into her mouth and crunching down on it. Alaska cringed.

“Trees.” Alaska said, eyeing Sharon’s mouth.

Sharon crunched the ice cube again. “Huh?”

“Trees.” Alaska repeated. She moved her gaze to Sharon’s eyes. “The charity. It’s not for ‘whales and polar bears’. It’s for trees.”

“Trees?” Sharon swallowed her ice.

“Yeah. They’re raising money for afforestation.”

“Fuck all the way off.” Sharon breathed, and Alaska’s lips twitched. “You’re shitting me.”

Alaska smirked. “I’m not.”

Sharon dropped her head to the table. It shook the glasses, and she heard a sound she thought might have been Alaska snorting a laugh. She hoped it was.

“The world is a terrible place, Alaska.” Sharon said into her file. She lifted her head and the paper inside of the file stuck to her forehead for a moment before falling back down. It had a greasy mark on it. Alaska was smiling again. “The people you are organising this fucking event for are garbage humans.”

“Oh, I know.” Alaska said.

“They’re willing to spend thousands of dollars on _plants_ to decorate a night dedicated to _planting trees._ ”

“Yeah, it makes entirely no sense.” Alaska agreed. “But they’re paying us a lot of money, and I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Tell me, Alaska.” Sharon said with a genuine smile. “What’s this reputation?”

Alaska leaned forward in her chair, beckoned Sharon closer with the crook of her finger. Her nail polish was black, just like Sharon’s, but manicured to perfection. Sharon scooted forward, face so close to Alaska’s that she could probably lick her if she had a slightly longer tongue. The thought was exceptionally weird, even for her, and Sharon berated herself with a pinch to her palm.

Alaska grinned and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m a fucking lesbian.” She said. “And I get shit done. And I get what I want. And I don’t let _anyone_ walk all over me.”

“I get it.” Sharon said. “You’re a straight up cunt.”

“I’m a straight up cunt.” Alaska leaned back. “I’m not paying eleven thousand dollars for flowers.”

Sharon wanted to jump her. “Negotiate with me.”

“Is this you asking me out?”

“Is this you asking me to ask you out?”

“Ten thousand even and we put your business cards in the guest gift bags.”

“Fifteen thousand, and you never mention my business was associated with that atrocity of a charity.”

Alaska cocked her head. “How are we going _up_ in price?”

“Plants for _plants_ , Alaska.”

“Ten thousand.”

“Eleven fifty.”

“Ten.”

“Eleven.”

“Ten thousand and I _don’t_ spread the rumour that _I_ made you _cry_.”

Sharon narrowed her eyes. “That’s slander. No one would believe you.”

“You want to test the theory?”

“Straight up cunt.”

Alaska beamed. “Straight up cunt. We got a deal?” She held out her hand.

Sharon considered her. She took a long moment to run the numbers through her head, adding up the profit margins in her mind as if she were using a spreadsheet on her laptop.

“If I agree to an even ten.” Sharon said slowly. “I would hope that you will keep our business in your mind as a favourable asset for future projects?”

“Of course.” Alaska said. “I’d certainly look forward to working with you more in the future, Miss Needles.”

Sharon shook her hand. “And I, you, Miss…”

Alaska ended their handshake, but kept her hand in Sharon’s. “Thunder. Alaska Thunder.”

Sharon laughed. “Thunder? Fuck, that’s a stupid last name.”

“Sure, you’re one to talk, _Sharon Needles._ ” She squeezed Sharon’s fingers.

“I have no idea what you mean, Lasky.”

………………………….

“Violet?”

Violet looked up from the magazine she was reading on the counter at the front of the store, at the sound of her name.

“I’m on my break.” She said, nodding to the magazine.

Sharon smirked. “No, you’re not. And don’t defend yourself to me. I’m not your boss.”

“Yeah, but you hand out the cheques.” Violet turned and leaned on the counter. “What do you want?”

“A favour.”

“Try me.”

Sharon took a position leaning against the counter next to her. “I need you to watch Aquaria on Thursday.”

“Thursday? Doesn’t she have school?”

“Thursday night.” Sharon said. “And take her to school Friday.”

Violet raised an eyebrow. “You got a booty call?”

“That phrase is disgusting. Please, stop.”

Violet laughed. “So you _do_ have a booty call?”

“I’m meeting a friend. She comes to town like twice a year with work, and we take advantage of that.”

Violet was smiling. “I want to be _just_ like you when I grow up.” She grinned. “You’re nasty.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Can you babysit for me or not?”

“Sure.” Violet shrugged. “Pearl’s doing some stupid dog class with Honey, but we’ll come pick Aquaria up after.”

“ _It’s not stupid.”_ Pearl shouted from the floral cold room. “ _It’s_ agility training. _And it’s awesome.”_

“Right.” Violet shook her head, dropping her voice. “The dog can’t walk down the street without being distracted by a pigeon. You can imagine what it looks like trying to get her to jump through hoops.”

Sharon smiled. “Thank you, Vi. I owe you one. And Pearl.”

“Don’t worry about it. I love watching Aquaria. She’s fun, and she likes to listen to my lectures on the benefit’s of _Rigilene_ versus _Tripleflex_ in corsets. Most people don’t appreciate a good discussion on boning.”

“Please stop teaching my daughter about corsets. She’s ten.” Sharon turned to go back to her office. “Seriously, though, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Have fun with your slam piece.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Violet just grinned and waved.

………………………………….

“Thanks for watching Aquaria last night.” Sharon said.

Pearl smiled. “No problem. We had fun. How was your night?”

“It was alright.” Sharon shrugged.

“Just alright?”

“It scratched an itch.” She said. “And that’s all I was looking for.”

Violet walked around them to ring up a customer, pausing to kiss Pearl on the cheek as she passed. Pearl blushed.

“You two are gross.” Sharon said.

“You’re just jealous.”

“Whatever.”

……………………………………….

“Are you on the fucking phone to Alaska, _again_?” Trixie didn’t seem to be in the least bit concerned about Alaska hearing her via Sharon’s phone. “Jesus Christ, Shaz. Just fuck her already so you can get back to work.” She stormed out of Sharon’s office, pink kaftan sweeping behind her in an elegant punctuation to her exit.

“ _Shaz?_ ” Alaska asked, and Sharon could hear the laughter beginning to bubble from her.

“Don’t.” She threatened. “Don’t call me that.”

“ _Sure thing,_ Shaz.” Alaska laughed.

“I hate you.”

Trixie poked her head back through the door. “Get off the _fucking phone.”_ She glared at Sharon until Shangela called her from the front of the store.

“ _Pearl’s injured, again.”_ Shangela shouted. “ _Not ‘emergency room’ injured. But like ‘there’s blood in the chrysanthemums’ injured.”_

Trixie rolled her eyes. “How does she manage to injure herself on _flowers_?” She asked rhetorically.

“ _I need a Band-Aid and a shot of_ Fireball, _and then I’ll be fine.”_ Pearl’s voice carried through the building.

Trixie gave Sharon one last glare and turned again to leave her alone with her phone call.

“ _Sounds like it’s all happening over there.”_ Alaska said.

“They’re all incompetent, is what is happening.”

Sharon and Alaska’s phone calls were mostly professional, although the beginning and end of their conversations tended to be filled with light flirting and pleasant chitchat about their day-to-day lives. Since their first meeting, it had been a solid three weeks of back and forth calls and emails regarding the finer details of Alaska’s order, and the payment options Sharon was willing to offer on behalf of the business. The calls were tedious, and made all the more boring by the frequent addition of various college interns on Alaska’s end, hoping to gain some insight into the world of business. Sharon fucking hated those calls. They meant she had to act professional and pretend she _wasn’t_ seconds away from making death threats.

“ _Well, you don’t have to be there much longer, right? It’s Friday.”_ Alaska said. “ _Got any plans for the weekend?”_

Today, it was just the two of them on the call. The two of them, and _occasionally_ Trixie screeching at Sharon to get off the phone, but it was still nice to have a _mostly_ private conversation with Alaska.

“Yeah.” Sharon said. “Fifty more minutes and I’m out of here.” She spun around in her chair to signify her upcoming freedom to Klaus the dead cactus. “Going to go home and eat cheese and drink wine in my pyjamas.”

Alaska snorted a laugh. “ _Isn’t your daughter at a slumber party?”_

“Yeah. Your point?”

“ _You’re child-free for a night. Go wild.”_

Sharon nodded. “You’re right, Lask.” She slapped a hand on her desk. “I’m going to eat cheese and drink wine, _naked.”_

_“Not what I meant, but live your life, I guess.”_

“Then what did you mean? Come on, apparently I’m old and boring according to my ten year old, so give me young and fresh ideas.”

“ _I’m only two years younger than you.”_

“But you’re still in your _twenties_.” Sharon stressed. She rubbed a smudge from one of the photographs of Aquaria she had stuck to her desk organiser. “That makes a hell of a difference. As soon as you turn thirty, you might as well be dead.”

“ _Sharon!_ ”

“It’s true.” She shrugged. “Thirty is the new ‘dead’.”

Alaska sighed. “ _Remember when you said you had trouble making friends as an adult,_ this _is why.”_

“Noted.”

“ _I just thought you would be out doing cool single-mom things.”_ Alaska said, enthusiastically.

“Such as?”

“ _I don’t know, like going to strip clubs, or going to swingers parties.”_

Sharon frowned at Klaus. “Is this what you think single mothers do?”

“ _It’s what my mom did.”_ There was a pause. _“Okay, so she didn’t necessarily go swinging, but she ran a strip club.”_

Sharon paused. “Really? That’s kind of awesome of your mom.”

“ _I know_.” Alaska proclaimed, proudly. “ _She’s awesome. Still runs it now, in LA.”_

“Well, then.” Sharon said, stretching an arm over her head. “Maybe I’ll go see some strippers. You know, and think about your mom.”

“ _Please don’t go and see strippers and think about my mom.”_ Alaska’s voice was void of emotion. _“Just, please don’t do that.”_

“Then what do you suggest I do?”

“ _Do whatever you want. Just don’t think about my_ mom _.”_

Sharon smiled. She scratched at her scalp and dropped her voice. “And who should I think about?”

Alaska breathed heavily enough that it was clearly distinguishable on the phone. “ _Anyone you want.”_

“Oh.” It wasn’t the _smoothest_ reply she perhaps could have mustered, but Sharon was frankly amazed she had managed to actually say _anything_ in reply to Alaska. “Do, um, do you have plans for the weekend?”

Alaska was quiet for several seconds.

Sharon held her breath and didn’t know why.

“ _My friend is performing tonight.”_ She said, casually. “ _I was going to go and watch her.”_

“That sounds like fun.” Sharon said. She put her feet up on her desk and leaned back in her chair in an attempt to look as casual as Alaska sounded.

“ _Yeah, it should be. Might be a bit lonely, though.”_

The desk chair moved backwards of it’s own accord and Sharon almost dropped her phone, fumbling to press it back to her ear. “Why is that?”

“ _Well, she’s performing.”_ Alaska said slowly. _“And I’ll be watching, but I’ll be all on my own.”_

“You don’t have anyone to go with you?”

Alaska sighed. “ _I had lots of friends in the city when I lived here in college, but I only moved back a couple of months ago.”_ She said. “ _I don’t know a lot of people, anymore.”_

“Like I said, it’s hard making friends as an adult.”

“ _Yeah it is.”_ She sighed again, so dramatically that it made Sharon smirk.

“Well,” Sharon said, “you know you’ve made _one_ friend here.”

“ _You’re right.”_ she said, and Sharon beamed. “ _I guess I could ask Katya.”_

“Katya?” Sharon kicked away from the desk and the chair spun and hit the back wall.

Alaska laughed. “ _You don’t think I should ask Katya? You have a better suggestion, Shaz?”_

“I can come.” Sharon said.

“ _Oh, I would have asked,”_ Alaska teased, _“but I just wasn’t sure it was really your_ scene.” She giggled. “ _You know, with you being thirty and all. It’s more of a place for people in their_ twenties.”

Sharon was grinning. She was grinning, and she was spinning around in the fucking desk chair because Alaska was fully being a little shit.

“Fuck all the way, off.” She said. “You deserve to get eaten by bobcat, you whore.”

Alaska laughed again, loud and obnoxious. “ _I’ll take that as a ‘yes, Alaska, I’d love to join you.”_

“Whatever.” Sharon bit her bottom lip. “Get fucked.”

“ _Not on the first date. I’m a lady.”_

………………………………

“When you said we were going to see your friend perform, I kind of assumed you meant singing.” Sharon said.

The person on stage strutted to the edge in time with the beat of the music, leaned over to take a five-dollar bill from a patron’s outstretched hand, and promptly licked the side of his face. She grinned and he offered her another five.

“Well, you didn’t assume _totally_ wrong.” Alaska said. Sharon looked over at her, eyes roaming over her cheek where the contour wasn’t quite blended completely. “Sometimes she sings.” Alaska nodded towards the stage.

Sharon followed her gaze. The woman was humping the stage with an enthusiasm and skill that Sharon admired. It was hot.

“But mostly,” Alaska continued, “Willam does _that_.”

Alaska’s friend was very hot. Sharon was also pretty sure Alaska’s friend had a dick and was the same guy who sold her coffee at the place around the corner from Trixie’s florist. She liked him. Good for Willam.

“She’s very good.” Sharon said.

“Oh, she is.” Alaska agreed, brows rising as the woman pulled money out of her bra and threw it _into_ the audience. “And she knows it.”

The bar they were in was loud. On meeting Alaska outside, she had grabbed Sharon’s hand and led her inside, towards the back of the establishment. They were close to the bar, which Sharon thought was just lovely, but slightly secluded from the drunken stupor that directly surrounded the stage. Alaska seemed to know the place well, darting out of their little table-booth on the raised floor at the back, to get them both drinks. She was only gone a few minutes, despite the massive crowds around the bar.

From their table, Sharon had an almost perfect view of the stage. The right hand side was blocked by a group of kids who were probably in their twenties, but who Sharon had decided were too young to even be a valuable part of society. One of them was wearing a _smart watch_.

In between sipping on the vodka sodas Alaska had bought for them, and making small talk about the various people on the tables surrounding them, Alaska had informed Sharon that she frequented the bar twice a month or so at the request of her friend, who performed there several times a week.

“ _She asks me to come and see her when she’s really proud of a routine and she wants to show off.”_ Alaska had said.

On stage, Willam whipped her hair into the face of a man wearing sunglasses. She kissed both of the lenses. He offered her money.

“She’s talented.” Sharon said.

Alaska was watching her friend with an ample amount of interest. Sharon was trying, and it wasn’t like Willam wasn’t interesting enough to watch, but there was something more compelling in the view of Alaska. Even in her own mind, Sharon was creeped out at the thought. She was thirty years old, in a strip club, that was also maybe a gay bar, and also perhaps a brothel, and she was ignoring the stage act in favour of slyly watching the woman next to her. Who she was _maybe_ on a date with, but was also _maybe_ just out with _as a friend_. The music was loud, Sharon felt old, and it was all very confusing.

Alaska was wearing jeans with rips across the legs all the way to the top of her thighs. She had a tattoo and Sharon was trying not to stare at the pale skin through the splits, trying to work out what it was.

“I like your shoes.” Alaska was still watching the stage. Her mascara was clumping together at the edge of her lashes. Sharon wanted to pick at it.

“Thanks.” Sharon said. “They’re not new.”

Alaska smiled, eyes still on her friend. “I guessed.”

She was wearing heels. Sharon had made an effort. Had spend far too long asking herself if she was dressed too casual in the skinny leather pants that made her legs sweat, and the band tee she had once upon a time chopped the arms off and cut a ‘v’ in to show off her cleavage. The compromise had come from Aquaria, who had, in an attempt to get her mom to take her to her friend’s house quicker, suggested she wear some heels. Sharon had taken her ten-year-old’s advice begrudgingly (she was _ten_ , she shouldn’t know the difference between a corset heel and platform sling back), and had chosen to throw on an old pair of black pumps. The toes were scuffed, but they had been worn in enough that they were comfortable. Sharon had thrown up while wearing them twice. They were seasoned.

“Do all the shoes you own have holes in them?”

“Well, duh.” Sharon said. “How else would I get my feet in them?”

Alaska tilted her head slightly to look at Sharon. One of her eyebrows was cocked cartoonishly. “How are you a even real person?”

Sharon didn’t reply. She thought about kissing Alaska, but then the crowd gasped collectively and both of their attentions were drawn to the woman on stage. Alaska had her hand on Sharon’s forearm and Sharon didn’t know why but liked it very much.

“Oh.” Sharon said. Alaska’s friend was, very professionally, doing a live demonstration of fisting a young man wearing an orange harness.

Alaska squeezed her arm. “Would you believe me if I told you this is a regular part of the show?”

The man with the hand in his butt was collecting tips from nearby spectators.

“Actually, I would.”

Alaska turned fully to Sharon, then. She smiled. Sharon wanted to hold Alaska’s hand, but the other woman beat her to it. “I think we’re friends now.” They could have been shaking hands in a business meeting.

But they weren’t.

Sharon lifted Alaska’s hand to her mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Good.”

………………………….

Alaska invited Sharon to lunch four times in three weeks.

And then Sharon asked Alaska to lunch twice after that.

It became an unspoken regular arrangement to meet for lunch twice a week. If they couldn’t make lunch, Sharon dropped Aquaria with Jinkx for a few hours, and instead they had dinner.

They held hands on three occasions. But once Alaska was leading Sharon through a crowded part of town to a café she liked.

Once Alaska kissed Sharon on the cheek. But then she thanked her for being a good friend.

…………………………..

Sharon went to Alaska’s apartment for the first time, six weeks after they had first met. She went again two weeks after that. Both times they watched a movie, ate take out, and cuddled on the couch.

They never kissed.

……………………………

Three months after they met, Sharon went into the phone store and asked for a different monthly plan. Three hundred minutes and five hundred texts per month was suddenly not enough.

Sharon loved hearing about Alaska’s day. She would kiss Aquaria goodnight at eight thirty, and Alaska would call an hour later, and the routine would have been scary if Alaska hadn’t started referring to Sharon as her ‘best _friend’_ to the people they met at the bar when they went to see Willam perform.

One night at the bar, Alaska wore a short skirt even though it was fucking cold out. She let Sharon sit all night with her hand on her thigh, rubbing her thumb over the pretty illustration of some grey scale flowers tattooed onto her leg. Sharon didn’t know what kind of flower they were and she didn’t ask.

They went back to Alaska’s apartment and slept in the same bed, as friends.

……………………………

“Your stupid dog is under my desk, again.” Sharon said when Pearl and Violet entered her office to get their pay slips.

“Sorry.” Pearl whistled and Honey extracted herself from around Sharon’s feet to trot over to her. “Were you bothering Sharon?” She petted the dog.

“Yes.” Sharon said. “Stupid mutt.” She held out their envelopes. “Here. Take these so I can go home.”

Violet grabbed, them, passing one to Pearl. “I’ve been making some costumes for Farrah’s high school play.” She said, using a long nail to slice through the envelope. “I was thinking Aquaria would like to see them next time she comes over. You have any booty calls coming up?”

“We haven’t had a real sleepover with her in months.” Pearl commented. “You getting too old to hump and dump?”

Sharon glared at her. “I just haven’t been in the mood for any pointless one night stands.”

“Plus,” Violet added, “she’s too busy trying to get in Alaska’s pants.”

“Shut up.”

………………………………….

Sharon had introduced Alaska to Aquaria at her daughter’s birthday party.

February. Four months after they met.

Aquaria had hugged Alaska and told her she was “ _gorgeous_ ”. Alaska had blushed and given Aquaria a gift in a purple sparkly gift bag. Sharon had told her not to buy her anything but that suggestion had gone by the wayside. The present was a thick, lined notebook with lilac pages and a purple furry cover. Alaska had included a matching pencil case and filled it with metallic gel pens and scented markers. For the remainder of her party, Aquaria had carried the notebook around under her arm, with a gold gel pen in the rings of the binding, occasionally removing the pen to write something “ _poignant”_ that she wanted to “ _remember forever.”_

“ _How does she even know what ‘poignant’ means?”_ Sharon had mumbled to Alaska as she had watched Aquaria run off with her friends. “ _I’m not even sure that I really know what it means_.”

“ _She seems like a really smart kid.”_ Alaska had stood with her side leaning on Sharon, nudging her with her elbow. “ _She obviously didn’t get that from you.”_

Sharon had rolled her eyes, fondly. Alaska had linked her arm with hers. They had eaten ice cream and driven back to Sharon’s house in the same car. Aquaria fell asleep in the back seat with a butterfly painted on her face and the fluffy notebook in her lap.

……………………………….

Trixie poked her head into Sharon’s office without knocking. “So you’re fucking Alaska, now?”

Sharon looked up from her computer, pushing her glasses onto her head. “No.”

“Kat says you’re fucking Alaska.” Trixie was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded under her boobs. She had dirt on her knuckles, although her white cardigan remained pristine.

“ _Kat_ doesn’t know shit.” Sharon said. She pushed her glasses back down onto her nose. “She sees things that aren’t there.”

“You guys go to that weird bar, though. Like all the time.” Trixie said.

“Like every few weeks.” She muttered.

“And Katya says you’re always going for lunch with her. Talking on the phone with her. Inviting her over to your _house._ ”

Sharon rolled her eyes and went back to her laptop. “We’re friends.” She said. “I can have friends.”

“Sure you can.” Trixie shrugged. “You just don’t seem the type to _make a friend_. It’s been like six months. _You_ don’t keep friends for _that_ long.”

Sharon glared at her. “I can make friends.”

“Name five friends you’ve made who you still talk to, regularly.”

“You? And Katya? Shangela? Jinkx?” Sharon counted on her fingers.

“Four.”

“And,” she looked around the room for inspiration, eyes landing on Klaus’ rotted husk.

“Not the dead cactus.” Trixie said, giving him a disgusted squint.

From the floral cold room Violet screamed at Pearl. “ _Get that fucking thing away from me!”_

_“It’s just a spider.”_ Pearl laughed back.

There was a scream and the sound of running footsteps through the hall. Trixie looked up at the ceiling and pinched her nose.

“Pearl and Violet.” Sharon said. “There, I gave you a bonus one. Six friends. I’m _friendly._ ”

Trixie shook her head in exasperation, folding her arms again. “First of all, _I_ don’t count. I’m your boss and it took me eight months to get you to go to lunch with me. Katya is your friend by proximity, because she comes with me.”

“You’re a package deal. Right.”

“I’m like ninety-eight per cent sure you’ve never even spoken to Shangela outside of work before.” Trixie continued. “She genuinely only puts up with you because you handle her wages each month.”

Sharon lifted a hand to begin to argue, but Trixie powered ahead.

“And when was the last time you spoke to Violet or Pearl outside of this office?”

Sharon bristled. “I was texting Violet just the other day.” She defended. “And I spoke to Pearl at the front of store just this morning. You _saw_.”

“And were both of those conversations regarding them babysitting for you?” At Sharon’s lack of response, Trixie smiled. “See? You’re just not the _type_ to go out of your way to make a friend.”

It was difficult to argue with Trixie’s logic this time, no matter how much she wanted to. “What about Jinkx?” She asked in a last attempt to prove her wrong.

Trixie shrugged. “So maybe Jinkx is the exception. Did you act friendly to secure that friendship?”

“No, actually.” She said. “I was pregnant and homeless and she felt sorry for me.”

“Oh. But you became friends eventually.”

“Yeah.” Sharon nodded. “She mostly pursued the friendship though. I mostly told her to go to hell while I ate her food and lived in her living room.” She squinted as she recalled. “She was far too _chirpy_ back then. I wasn’t into it.”

“Do you see my point?”

“I see your point.” Sharon agreed. “But that doesn’t mean Alaska’s not my friend. I like spending time with her.”

“So you’re dating her?”

“No.”

“So _just_ fucking?”

“ _No.”_

Trixie huffed. “Then _what_?”

“Then _nothing._ God, Trixie, can’t you just shut the fuck up for once?”

“Touchy.”

“Fuck off.”

“You should get laid. You’re too tense.”

Sharon threw a pen at her with the company logo printed on. “Get out and leave me _alone.”_

…………………………..

Sharon was convinced she had an _actual_ pair of sneakers appropriate for exercising in, somewhere in the bottom of her closet. Aquaria was convinced Sharon had thrown them into the charity bin at the supermarket after she tried the gym that one time two and half years ago, and cried in the car because _everything hurt_.

Alaska was on a health kick. That apparently meant Sharon had to go on a hike with her.

“Is Alaska your girlfriend, Mom?”

Sharon turned from her task of rummaging through the shit on the floor of her closet to look at Aquaria.

“Is she my girlfriend?”

Aquaria nodded. “Yeah.”

The kid was sitting cross-legged in the centre of Sharon’s bed, running a hairbrush through a _Barbie’s_ hair. The brush was Aquaria’s own and she was brutally smacking the doll in the face with it each time she pulled it through the hair. Sharon would feel sorry for it, but the feminist lesbian in her secretly enjoyed the fact that Aquaria wasn’t usually overly fond of the dolls. Recently, though, she had taken to setting the few she owned on their coffee table and callously critiquing their fashion choices, before making her own clothes from construction paper.

The kid was watching her with wide eyes, waiting for Sharon to respond. Aquaria blinked and cocked her head to the side, lifting her chin. She had blue eye shadow from _Claire’s_ smeared across her eyelids.

“You’re too young for all that crap on your face.”

“I’m _eleven_.” Aquaria said, still holding the doll. “I’m a _young adult_. That’s the section I go to in _Barnes and Noble.”_

Sharon stood up and crossed to sit on the bed next to her. “Come here.” She muttered, and licked her thumb. Aquaria started to squeal and claw herself across the bed and Sharon cackled and tried to rub the make-up off Aquaria’s face.

“Get off!” Aquaria was laughing, batting her hands at Sharon. “I don’t want your spit on me.”

Sharon pinned her to the bed. “I’m your mommy.” She kissed her cheek sloppily, putting as much spit into it as she could. “You’re my baby. We have the same spit.”

Aquaria pretended to gag. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Sharon blew a raspberry on Aquaria’s belly and left dark lipstick marks around her belly button. Aquaria launched herself at Sharon, discarding the _Barbie_ and hairbrush on the side of the bed, to tackle her onto the pillows. Sharon let her push her back and sit on her stomach to tickle her sides.

“No, no, stop!” Sharon shrieked. She dramatically jumped at every one of Aquaria’s tickles to make her laugh. “You’re so mean.”

“No.” Aquaria said, breathing heavily as she grinned at Sharon. She stopped her attack, but kept her hands on Sharon’s sides. “You’re the mean one.” She giggled. “Mama. Say something _mean_ to me.”

“You look like a smurf.” Sharon told her.

Aquaria smiled. “How do you know that’s not what I’m going for?”

“Well, you got me there.”

“Yeah I did, huh?” The kid looked so goddamn proud of herself. “Say something so _mean_ to me, that I’ll _die.”_

_“_ Are you sure?” Sharon humoured her. “Dying means you won’t be able to go and hang out with Violet, tomorrow. She’s got new dresses, I’ve heard.”

Aquaria bit her lip. “I’m sure.”

“Sure, sure?”

She smiled and leaned forward, rubbing her nose against Sharon’s “ _Sure,_ sure.”

“Okay then.” Sharon held her close and whispered. “This is going to be so _mean_ , you’re literally going to start bleeding from your ears, and your eyeballs are going to pop out of your skull.”

Aquaria laughed.

“And your brain is going to melt and drip out of your nose.”

“Wow.”

“Are you ready?

“Yeah.”

Sharon took one long dramatic breath in. “Aquaria Needles,” she said slowly, pulling her knees up to hold the kid close, “you look _just_ like your mommy.”

The kid screamed and put her hands over her head. “My brain is _dripping from my nose_.” She shouted. “That was a _horrible_ thing to say.”

“You asked for mean, I gave you mean.” Sharon bear-hugged her daughter.

Aquaria stopped fighting and instead giggled breathlessly as she lay down over Sharon’s chest, cheek pressed to one of her boobs. For a second, Sharon thought she was going to suck her thumb like when she was younger, but then Aquaria moved her hand away from her face to hold the strap on Sharon’s tank top. She brushed Aquaria’s hair out of her eyes and kissed the top of her head.

“That wasn’t really mean, Mom.” Aquaria said quietly. “I want to look like you, anyways.”

“Are you sure?” Sharon asked, still petting her hair. “I’m old, you know.”

“Well I don’t want to look like you _now_.” She rolled her eyes. “But when I’m fifty-seven I want to look as good as you do.”

“I’m thirty-one you little creep.”

Aquaria laughed. “I’m just kidding.” She looked up at Sharon through her lashes. “I think you’re stunning, Mama.”

“Stunning?” Sharon smiled at her.

“That’s what Alaska called you.” She said. “When she put the lipstick on you the other day _.”_

The three of them had gone to the mall together. Aquaria needed new shoes, Alaska wanted new shoes, and Sharon spent the whole day feeling warm and happy as she watched her daughter hold Alaska’s hand around all of the stores. She wouldn’t hold Sharon’s, she was ‘too old to hold hands with her mom’, but Alaska was apparently allowed the privilege. They had ended the day with forty-five minutes in _Sephora_. Aquaria had been in her element, and apparently so had Alaska as she used every available tester to make up Sharon’s face.

“Stunning means beautiful.” Aquaria said, still watching Sharon. “Alaska thinks you’re beautiful.”

“I know.”

“Do you think that Alaska is beautiful?”

Sharon nodded.

Aquaria reached behind her and groped the bed until the _Barbie_ doll fell into her hand. “I like this one because she looks like Alaska.”

The doll was a generic _Barbie;_ long straight blonde hair, skinny legs, massive tits, elongated neck, and tiny waist.

“No,” Sharon said into the top of Aquaria’s head, “Alaska’s a lot more beautiful that that.”

Aquaria nodded. “She’s stunning.”

“She is.”

The kid moved so that she was lying on her stomach, directly on top of Sharon. She wiggled to get comfortable, and Sharon got an elbow to the ribs. Aquaria rested her chin on her hands on top of Sharon’s chest, and looked her in the eye.

“Are you avoiding my question on purpose?” She asked.

“And what question would that be?”

“I _asked_ if Alaska was your girlfriend.” Aquaria said. “And then you called me a smurf.”

Sharon kissed her nose. “My baby smurf.”

“ _Mom.”_

“Right, I’m sorry.” She said. Sharon laced her hands over Aquaria’s back. “I’m not avoiding your question.”

“So, then what’s the answer?”

“No.” Sharon said. “Alaska isn’t my girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Aquaria frowned. “But you do girlfriend things with her.”

“What ‘girlfriend things’?”

Aquaria scrunched her nose. “You go on dates places. And you have sleepovers. And you think she’s beautiful.”

“You’re right.”

“Then why isn’t Alaska your girlfriend?” She blinked twice. “I don’t mind, you know. I love Alaska, too.”

_Too._

Her little face was so fucking cute Sharon wanted to punch something. Instead she leaned down and kissed Aquaria’s cheek.

“I love you, you know.” Sharon said. She kissed Aquaria, again. “I love you more than I love anything in the world.”

“And I love _you_ more than anything else.” Aquaria smiled. “I’m going to love you more than anything else, forever.”

“Oh, that’s not true.” Sharon tickled her side gently. “One day you’ll grow up, and you’ll go off and leave me to be with someone else.” She wiped away a fake tear. “And you won’t be my baby anymore.”

“Yes I will!” Aquaria looked horrified. “I’m not leaving you, Mommy.”

“You’re not?” Sharon said. “But I thought you were a _young adult_?”

The kid nuzzled her nose into her chest. “Maybe not all the time, though.”

“How come?”

“Because if I’m an adult, you can’t snuggle me and sometimes I want to snuggle.” To illustrate her point, Aquaria burrowed into Sharon’s arms and sighed. “Like this.”

“Kiddo, you can be one hundred and four and I’ll still snuggle you.”

“You’ll be dead, by then. And I don’t want to snuggle with a corpse.”

Sharon chuckled. “But you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah. I promise that even when I’m a grown up, I’ll want to cuddle with you, Mama.” Aquaria said. “But I still don’t think I’m going to love anyone more than you.”

“What if you get a husband and he has lots of money and nice cars and a huge house?”

Aquaria sat up slightly to regard her mother. The look on her face was one of pure alarm. “Excuse you, but I’m going to have my own money. I’m not marrying some rich dude. Gross.”

Sharon grinned. “Good girl.”

“Are you going to get married, Mom?”

It was a question Aquaria had asked before, but certainly not recently. Not since Sharon and her ex had broken up. It had been more than three years.

“I don’t think so, kiddo.” Sharon said, slowly. “I don’t need to get married. I’ve got you.”

“You said I was going to leave you when I grow up.”

“Well, maybe when that happens, I’ll elope.”

“You could marry Alaska.” Aquaria shrugged. “If you wanted. I’d let you.”

Sharon brushed some of the fallout from the _Claire’s_ eye shadow off Aquaria’s cheek. Her freckles were noticeable at the close angle, tiny little ones dusted over her nose. “Alaska’s just my friend, kiddo.”

“But when you’re girlfriends, you can marry her, then.”

“It’s not really that simple.”

Aquaria picked up the _Barbie_ again. She smiled. “Grown ups always say that. I think things are usually simpler than they make them out to be.”

…………………………..

“I’m closing up and going home, Shaz.” Trixie appeared at the door of her office. “Come on, or I’ll lock you in.”

Sharon glanced over to her, and then back to her laptop. “Give me the keys. I’ll lock up. I’ve still got work to do.”

Trixie shifted the tote bag on her shoulder. “You’re already two hours late in clocking out.”

“Aquaria’s with Pearl and Violet tonight.” She said. “So I don’t have to rush home for anything.”

“I thought Kat said you were going for dinner with Alaska tonight?” Trixie folded her arms.

Sharon frowned. “She’s busy tonight with friends.”

“Doing what?”

“I don’t care.”

Trixie threw her the keys. “Are you sure? Because it sounds like you care.”

……………………………

“How was your night out?” Sharon asked.

“It was okay.” Alaska said. “Willam’s been trying to set me up with this girl he works with at the coffee shop. She was there.”

“Oh.”

Alaska nodded. “I left pretty early. Willam took some guy home, so I just left, too.”

“Is she nice?”

“Who?”

“The girl.” Sharon pressed her lips together. “Um, the one Willam set you up with.”

Alaska smiled. “I don’t know.” She bumped her arm against Sharon’s. “I didn’t meet her. I told Willam I wasn’t interested.”

Sharon smiled.

“Well, I told him I wasn’t interested in _her_ , anyway.”

…………………………..

“I think I’m pregnant.”

Sharon rolled her eyes at Katya, sprawled across the couch in Sharon’s office, hands gripping at her stomach. “When was the last time you had a dick in you?”

Trixie walked into the room. “Two thousand and four.” She said. “She was twenty-two and still thought she was bi.”

“Then, I can guarantee you, you’re not pregnant.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Katya nodded. She accepted the mug of tea from Trixie. “It’s probably just a phantom pregnancy.”

“Or you ate two day old Mexican food at three am and we’re twenty minutes away from you shitting yourself.” Trixie sat on the arm of the couch. “I told you last night that taco was a bad idea.”

Katya’s belly audibly groaned. “I don’t regret a thing.”

“If you diarrhoea in my office, I’m going to get Pearl’s dog to shit in your _Prius_.”

The shrill marimba of Sharon’s phone scorched whatever retort Katya had on the tip of her tongue. The photograph of Alaska Sharon was using for her contact picture showed off her floral tattoo on her thigh. She fumbled for a second to unplug it from the charging cable, and caught Trixie giving Katya a _look_. She glared at both of them.

“Hi, Lasky.”

_“Hey, I’m outside.”_ Alaska said. “ _I was going to come in, but there’s no parking so I’m just idling in a loading bay.”_

“Okay, give me like two minutes.” Sharon grabbed her bag off the floor. “I’ll be out soon and then we can go for dinner.”

“ _See you in a sec, Shaz.”_

_“_ Shut the fuck up.”

Alaska laughed and then the conversation ended as she hung up. Sharon put her phone in her pocket.

“You know,” Trixie said, leaning into Katya’s side on the couch, “if you don’t make a move on Alaska soon, she’s going to find someone else.”

Sharon opened her desk drawer. “Have either of you seen my house keys? I can’t find them.”

“That barista at the place around the corner’s been eyeing her up, I’ve heard.”

“Fucking keys. Where are they?”

“Stop ignoring me.” Trixie said.

“I had them in my hand this morning when I came into work.” Sharon muttered. She began moving papers around her desk. “But I can’t remember where I put them.”

“Sharon?”

Sharon began checking her jacket pockets. “Maybe in here…”

“Shaz.”

“Don’t call me that, Trixie.”

“Don’t ignore me, then, _Shaz.”_

She sighed and looked over at Trixie. She had her arms folded, eyes narrowed at Sharon. Katya looked between them.

“Just,” Sharon wiped some mascara goop out of the corner of her eye, “give it a rest, Trixie?” She asked. “I’m tired of you nagging me.”

“I nag because I care.”

“It’s true.” Katya nodded.

Trixie stood up. She crossed over to the bookshelf. Klaus had become a breeding ground for the local fly population as soon as the weather had begun to heat up again. In his place was a purple orchid, lovingly named ‘Penelope’ by Aquaria. All Sharon had to do, according to Trixie, was give Penelope one ice cube in her pot, every Monday morning. So far, Penelope was five weeks into her new life on the bookcase, and going strong.

“I want you to be happy.” Trixie said sincerely. She reached out and plucked Sharon’s keys from the shelf above Penelope’s. “I love you, Sharon, and I want you to be happy.”

“I _am_ happy.”

Trixie smiled. “I know. But, you could be happier.” She threw Sharon the keys.

She caught them easily. The little plastic key ring hanging from the set knocked against her knuckle. She looked down and smiled at Aquaria’s kindergarten school photograph inside of the plastic casing. Christ, that day felt like minutes ago.

“Can you believe Aquaria’s going to be twelve in less than six months?”

“What?” Trixie said. She looked at Katya, and Sharon caught the hint of a shrug from her.

“Nothing.” Sharon rubbed her thumb over the photograph, and dropped her keys into her purse. “I guess I’m just feeling sentimental. Time flies.”

“Sure does.” Katya agreed. She sat up straighter on the couch. “Two weeks and Alaska’s been working with me for a _year_. Feels like nothing.”

“Fuck.” Sharon breathed. “That’s….” She began counting the months in her head. “Wow. I’ve known Alaska for-,”

“Ten months.” Trixie interrupted. “You met in October. It’s August.”

Sharon looked at her. “What are you, my calendar?”

“No.” Trixie threw her arms up in the air. “But I’m trying to be your fucking _alarm_.”

“Huh?”

“Ugh!” Trixie groaned. “You need to _wake up.”_ She clapped her hands. “Fucking hell, Sharon, you’ve been in love with that woman for almost a fucking _year_ , and you haven’t told her.”

“Stop telling me how I feel!” Sharon stepped in front of her desk. “You think you know me.” She stepped towards Trixie. “You think you know my life.” She was nose to nose with her. “But,” She poked Trixie’s chest, “you fucking don’t. You _don’t,_ Trixie.”

Trixie pushed Sharon’s shoulder. “I know you.” She spoke quietly. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Fuck you.”

“I know that you pretend you’re a scary Goth bitch, but you sleep with the hall light on because you’re scared.”

“Oh, shut up, Trixie.”

She pushed her again. “I know that you claim to hate Pearl’s dog, but that you give her treats and get her to sleep under your desk when she brings her into work.”

“Trixie.” Sharon heard Katya say, somewhere across the room. They ignored her, and Sharon instead, continued to stare Trixie down.

Trixie smiled sweetly. “You think I don’t know that you’ve been giving Farrah an extra forty dollars in her pay every week because her mom’s been sick and hasn’t been able to work as much.”

Sharon glared at Trixie. “You don’t have a clue about me. About my life.”

“I know you say you don’t care, but that you cry every time Aquaria gets mad and shouts at you.”

She growled. “Don’t you talk about my kid. You don’t know _shit,_ Mattel.”

“I know you think you’re a terrible mother. That you cry in your car because you think she’d be better off with someone else.”

“Trix.” Katya said.

She continued. “It’s true, isn’t it? I know that you think Aquaria’s going to turn out just like you.”

“Trixie, stop.”

Sharon bared her teeth. “Fuck _you_.”

“Pregnant and homeless at nineteen, trying to drink her way into a miscarriage just so she doesn’t have to bare any responsibility beyond getting a high.”

Sharon hit her.

Trixie stumbled back into the bookcase with the force of the slap. Penelope fell and her pot shattered on the ground.

A hand gripped Sharon’s arm and pulled her back.

“Enough.” Katya wrapped her arms around Trixie, guiding her away. “Both of you _stop._ ”

Trixie held her cheek. There were tear tracks in her blush.

The hand on Sharon’s arm tightened. “Sharon?” Alaska said. “Hey, it’s alright.”

Sharon turned to her and opened her mouth. Alaska was paler than usual and her eyes roamed Sharon’s face, quickly. Tears dripped from Sharon’s chin. She swallowed, heavily.

“Please don’t cry.” Alaska whispered.

“You were waiting outside.” Sharon’s voice felt far away. “In the car.”

“Yeah. But I found a parking space.” She touched the tears on Sharon’s cheek. “You were taking so long. I came to find you.”

Trixie was crying. Sharon could hear her.

“I hit Trixie, Lask.”

“ _I’m sorry_.” Trixie said. “ _I didn’t mean it, Sharon. I’m so sorry._ ”

“I know.” Alaska said. She held Sharon’s chin. “I saw.”

Trixie was out of order. _Way_ fucking out of order. Sharon was glad she had hit her, glad she had made her cry, _glad_ Trixie was sobbing into Katya’s arms, because she had made her feel like utter shit. Worse than shit. She had said things Sharon had never in her life thought she’d have to hear, and she was fucking _furious_ because…

… Because, Trixie had been right. About all of it.

The dark freaked Sharon out so she turned the hall light on before bed and claimed it was on behalf of Aquaria. Whenever Pearl brought Honey into work with her, Sharon would tell her it was unprofessional, and then coax the dog into her office with pieces of cheese until she curled up by her feet, then pretend to be annoyed about it. Farrah had told Shangela that her mom had had to leave her night job because of her bad chest, Sharon had overheard and began working the books enough to help cover Farrah’s costs for her travel to work and some school supplies. Aquaria’s outbursts weren’t common but they were enough to make Sharon cry the whole time the kid was in a time out.

And Sharon felt like a terrible mother. Almost all the time. And she lay awake at night, listening to the playlists of Celtic music Jinkx had made almost twelve years ago to play for her while she’d been in labour, and thought about how she had been so selfish the entire time that that little girl had been growing inside of her.

Trixie knew. She knew because she _knew Sharon._ Trixie knew Sharon’s deepest fears. Knew she prayed to something she had no belief in to keep her daughter from being such a fuck up like herself. _God_ , Sharon was such a fuck up. Such a piece of shit that her own _parents_ had left her all on her own. Aquaria deserved better. They all deserved better than Sharon. Aquaria, Katya, _Trixie_ , fuck, Alaska.

Alaska.

“I love you.”

Alaska’s brows twitched. “What? Sharon, I-,”

“I love you.” Sharon said again. She grabbed Alaska’s hand. The room was quiet. Trixie had stopped crying. “I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you.”

“Sharon…” Alaska breathed.

“Wait no.” She held up a hand. “No, I haven’t. That’s a lie. No.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I met you.” Sharon said. Her jacket was too hot on her neck. She moved her head irritably. “And you annoyed me, and then I kind of liked you, and then I was your friend. We were friends.”

“Yeah.” Alaska said. Her expression was baffled. “We _are_ friends.”

“Right.” She squeezed her hand. “But I don’t want that, Lask.”

“What?” Alaska stared at her. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say to me, Sharon.”

“I’m scared of the dark.”

Alaska’s expression didn’t change.

“And I love dogs.” Sharon kept going. “And I cry all the _fucking_ time when I’m on my own because I’m terrified I’m failing my daughter.”

“You’re not failing her, you’re-,”

“And you’re a cunt, Alaska.” Sharon laughed. She shook her head and looked over at Trixie. Her cheek was red, and she was curled into Katya’s arms, but the two of them were gawking at Sharon with matching expressions of disbelief. “Alaska is a _straight up cunt.”_ Sharon laughed at them. She turned back to Alaska. “I love you, I love you, I’m _in_ love with you and I need you to know because, _fuck_ , Alaska, Trixie is my alarm clock!”

Alaska blinked. “Are you declaring your love for me, or having some kind of psychotic breakdown?”

Sharon grinned. “Why not both?”

“Why not both?” Alaska chuckled. “It’s never simple, is it?”

“I think things are usually simpler than we make them out to be.”

“Okay.” Alaska said. “You’re in love with me.”

“I am.”

“Good. That’s good.”

…………………………………………….

When Aquaria had asked Trixie why she had a bruise under her eye, Katya had interrupted and told her that Trixie had been hit by a blind pigeon while walking in the park. Aquaria hadn’t believed her, but she had laughed and didn’t ask again for an hour.

When she asked what _‘really happened’,_ Trixie had hugged her and told her it was an accident, and Aquaria shouldn’t worry about her. Aquaria had held Trixie’s hand under the table of the restaurant as they ate dessert.

The five of them walked back to Sharon’s house together. Aquaria had been quiet, stealing glances at Trixie’s eye where the bruise was a few days old and mostly covered with a thick layer of concealer.

In their living room, Sharon and Alaska sat side by side on the floor, holding hands and drinking wine. Katya and Trixie sat on the couch, laughing, and eating cheese and olives even though dinner at the restaurant had been less than an hour before. Aquaria had set up camp next to the coffee table and coloured patterns on stolen restaurant napkins to make dresses for her _Barbies_.

“If someone’s bullying you, you’re supposed to tell a grown up.” She said to Trixie. “But who do grown ups tell if they’re being bullied?”

The room went quiet, laugher died down. Sharon and Trixie shared a _look_ and Sharon moved to sit by Aquaria. She took the marker from her and held Aquaria’s hands.

“I did something bad the other day.” Sharon told her. “Something I regret doing, and something I need you to know that I _never_ want you to do.”

Aquaria’s eyes hadn’t changed since that kindergarten photograph. They were huge and trusting and Sharon couldn’t believe that she was allowed to be this kid’s mother. She was _allowed_ to care for, to teach, this fantastic human.

“What did you do, Mom?”

“I slapped Trixie.” Sharon said. “That’s how she got her bruise.”

Aquaria looked at Trixie. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” Trixie said. “Not anymore.”

Aquaria frowned. “I feel like you’re lying to me.”

“I’m not.” Trixie said. “I _promise._ It doesn’t hurt.”

“Your eye or your feelings?”

Trixie smiled. “Both.” She nodded to Sharon. “I deserved it.”

“Why?”

“Because I said some nasty things to her.” Trixie said. She moved to kneel by Sharon.

“Mean things?” Aquaria asked. “Or _really_ mean things?”

“Really _really_ mean things.” Trixie said. “I was frustrated, and angry and I should never have said them.” She looked at Sharon. “And your mom got mad at me, and…” She trailed off.

“I hit her, Aquaria, and I’m so sorry.” She kissed her hands. “I’m so sorry, kiddo.”

“Me, too.” Trixie said. “I’m sorry.”

Aquaria smiled, then. A small smile. “I’m not mad at you. Either of you.” She frowned. “But I don’t understand why you’re saying sorry to _me_ and not each other.”

“They’ve said sorry.” Katya interjected from the couch. “At _length_. There were lots of tears and lots of hugging and then someone _may_ have thrown up.”

“It was Katya.” Trixie said, and looked at her girlfriend. “Katya was the one who threw up.”

“I ate an old taco.”

Aquaria nodded, understandingly. “But you’re okay, now?”

“Yeah.” Katya sighed. “There was some _severe_ toilet usage, but after a day or so-,”

“I meant, my mom and Trixie.” Aquaria said.

Alaska snickered behind them.

“Oh.”

The kid threw herself at Sharon, nearly knocking her over. “You guys aren’t allowed to fight.” She said into Sharon’s neck. “Not for real. Not like that.”

Sharon kissed her ear. “We won’t. I promise you, Baby. We got all of that out.”

“Yeah.” Trixie put a hand on Aquaria’s back. “It’s all resolved. It’s all over.”

“The squad isn’t allowed to fight.” Aquaria said, sitting back. She looked over Sharon’s shoulder at Alaska. “That’s you, too, Alaska.”

“I’m the squad?” Alaska grinned.

“Of course.” Aquaria smiled. “We’re squad goals.”

Sharon groaned. “Don’t say that, kiddo. Who taught you that?”

Katya looked guilty. “Squad goals!” She began doing jazz hands. “Come on. We’re _squad goals.”_

Aquaria climbed on top of the coffee table, almost falling as she slipped on one of her napkins. Katya reached out to steady her. “Squad goals.” Aquaria shouted.

“No.” Sharon said. She could feel her cheeks quivering as she tried not to smile, and felt Alaska come up behind her and wrap her arms around her middle, resting her head on her shoulder. “No.” She said again with less heart. “We’re not saying ‘squad goals’. We are not a squad.”

“We’re totally a squad.” Trixie said.

“One hundred per cent a squad.” Alaska agreed next to her ear.

Sharon sighed. She kissed Alaska’s cheek. Aquaria squealed as Katya lifted her from the table and spun her around. Trixie joined them, laughing.

“It’s a damn good job I love all of you so much.” Sharon said to herself.

Alaska kissed the corner of her mouth. “You love us?”

“I suppose, I do.” She said.

“Good.” Alaska said quietly. “Because we love you, too.”

“Yeah?”

Alaska kissed her. Aquaria ‘ _oo-ooh’_ ed.

“I love you, Shaz.”

“I love you, cunt.” She kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her. “I love that I can do that.”

Alaska smoothed a thumb over her cheek. “Straight up cunt.” She whispered.

Sharon smiled. “Squad goals.”

-

-

-

-

-

_-_

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

“Honey, come on! Jump through the hoop.”

“Pearl she’s not going to do it.”

“You can do it, puppy! Through the hoop. Come on!”

“Pearl, stop. She’s not going to jump through the damn hoop.”

“Be quiet, Violet. She’s almost there.”

“No, she’s not.”

“Through the hoop, Honey. Look, like this.”

“Don’t you dare jump through the hoop, Pearl.”

“She just needs to see how to do it.”

“Don’t, Pearl.”

“Like this, Honey.”

“Pearl, you’re going to fall- Oh my God.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m leaving you.”

“Vi, come back! I’m bleeding. Ouch…. you _still_ won’t jump through the hoop?”

‘ _Woof_.’

**Author's Note:**

> Please do tell me if you enjoyed reading this. I'd love to know. xxx


End file.
